The shadows on my wall don't sleep (They keep calling me)
by TitaniaSarys
Summary: FALLEN KINGDOM SPOILERS - As soon as Owen heard the scream, he was on his feet. He dropped his tools and only stopped when he was two feet away from the front door, or lack thereof seeing as his cabin was far from being finished. He only turned to look at Maisie who was sitting next to a crate and helping him sort through bolts and screws. "It's okay, I got this."
1. Chapter 1

Claire couldn't help but yelp as the Indoraptor came closer. She heard its huge legs move, hitting whatever object was in its path, scales scraping against furniture and then stone. It didn't matter how hard she pressed her hands against her ears or how strongly she squeezed her eyes shut, she could still see it coming, could hear it in her head. The unnatural roar drowned everything else and isolated her in her fear.

She couldn't move. There was nothing she could do.

She saw flashes of teeth, sharp shadows dancing in the night and casting nightmares on the walls of the various exhibits. She heard the rumble gathering in its wet throat before it was released as quickly as the clap of thunder, loud and resonating and making her skin crawl. She saw its eyes, a maleficent and cruel gleam shining like the most dangerous and cursed of gems, the line of golden scales running along its entire length like the continuity of a sick joke.

Owen died first.

He pushed Maisie back, didn't have the time to get her to safety. Claire knew the girl was next, she could feel it in her bones as clearly as she could feel the rain on her skin as she did her best to reach them, racing against time, to force her feet to move faster. She ignored the pain in her thigh where the wound was, gritted her teeth and held the weight of the gun in her hands.

But she was too late.

Before she could even lift the weapon, Owen's upper half disappeared inside the maws of the beast, his screams drowned by the gut wrenching swallowing noises the Indoraptor was making. Sharp teeth cut through flesh, blood was oozing on the glass panels of the roof and Claire could do nothing but watch.

She yelled his name as the jaws snapped shut and the lower half of Owen's body fell with a wet sound, guts splaying on the transparent surface, sliding down until they reached the stone, leaving a bloody trail on their way. Claire's gaze was filled with jagged bones and shredded fabric as her tears mixed with the rain.

She heard Maisie scream, had only time to lift her head to see the jaws of the monster snapping towards the child.

She lost more than her voice to the night.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as Owen heard the scream, he was on his feet. He dropped his tools and only stopped when he was two feet away from the front door, or lack thereof seeing as his cabin was far from being finished. He only turned to look at Maisie who was sitting next to a crate and helping him sort through bolts and screws. "It's okay, I got this." Maisie simply nodded, as if she understood, as if she knew what was happening and somehow Owen didn't doubt that she did. After all, PTSD didn't discriminate, Maisie got it too.

Owen cursed under his breath as he crossed the distance between his cabin and his van, the very van he had let Claire drive for the first time the day before. They had actually made a deal: Claire would go get checked in the hospital and in exchange Owen would get checked as well, and Maisie too. But Claire had also added something else in the bargain: Owen would have to let her drive the van, at least once.

So he let her drive. She wasn't too bad, maybe a bit too much on the rules' side, abiding by every law known to mankind when it came to driving, but that was fine with Owen as long as she didn't ram his van into a tree.

Owen had feared they wouldn't be able to see a doctor because of all the legal procedures, but it just so happened that, by the time Claire agreed to go, they had already been several incidents with dinosaurs and the last one involved more than a hundred people injured when the T-Rex decided to roam into a zoo. Owen was sad and concerned by the dinosaurs being released like that, but he took that opportunity and made them all pass as injured tourists from the zoo (they had to take out Claire's stitches though to avoid suspicion and if the doctor realized the wound was older than twenty four hours, he didn't say anything).

Claire was released after three hours of surgery on her thigh, brand new stitches, x-rays of her chest and back and other exams to detect concussions and the like. She only got bruises on her chest, no broken ribs, but she had a superficial laceration on her back from her encounter with the Baryonyx and then the whole chase downhill on the island (Owen had noticed her shirt was ripped but seeing there was no blood, he didn't ask about it).

Maisie was only diagnosed with PTSD, which, although it wasn't good, Owen was glad she hadn't been injured, besides the occasional bruised knees and scraped elbows they all had.

Owen himself had extensive bruises on his back from where he hit the stone on the roof after the Indoraptor almost fell through the glass roof and from all of the bumps and falls he went through since they landed on the island. Luckily, the gravest injury he got was a cut on his shoulder (from the impact with debris underwater) that the doctor hadn't even bothered to stitch up. And just like Maisie and Claire, he was diagnosed with PTSD, but the two adults were much better at hiding it.

After snatching a bag full of sedatives, painkillers, antiseptics, bandages and so many other meds Owen couldn't even pronounce (he had decided three years ago that between him and Claire, she was the one who would stick to _difficult words' pronunciation duty_ since the day she had said "Archaeornithomimus"), they escaped in the throng of injured people constantly coming in, not bothering to check out with the fake names they gave.

Owen didn't wait to see if Maisie was following her and opened the door to his van so fast he heard the hinges protest. The noise was the only thing that prevented him from ripping the door out entirely.

The inside of the van was dark, but Owen managed to find his way through the crammed space, having lived in there for years. He had to admit though; it was nice not to bump into weird objects or slid on dirty clothes like he used to before Claire agreed to stay with him. He couldn't believe one entire week had already passed since the whole Isla Nublar volcano eruption and Lockwood mansion fiasco.

He reached their bed at the end of the van, a double mattress that was barely enough to fit him and Claire, but leaving Maisie out was out of the question and the girl had slept with them since day one. It seemed that the adults' presence helped her calm down. Owen had offered to sleep on the floor of the van, or outside in a hammock that he could put up against a tree. It was the middle of summer and it was quite warm outside at night so he wouldn't mind the cold. But Claire had shut him up with a kiss and pulled him to her on the mattress, right before Maisie interrupted them and they all decided it was best to sleep (besides, Owen wanted his first time with Claire to be better than on his old mattress in his van).

When he reached the bed, he cautiously looked around for any signs of a threat, ready to grab the crossbar lying under the bed if someone or something happened to be there. The only thing that could actually fit in the van and don't make enough noise to wake Claire up would be Compys, but Owen didn't find any.

He was about to sit on the bed when Claire screamed again, the kind of loud and high pitched gut-wrenching scream only she could make (and he had heard her scream a lot whenever dinosaurs were involved). She was thrashing on the bed, covers tangled around her legs, her skin glistening with sweat in the little sunlight that was entering through the old blinders at the back of the van. She mumbled something in her sleep, something so harrowing that she started crying and moaning in pain or sadness, Owen couldn't tell.

He climbed onto the bed, avoiding her injured leg, and proceeded to shake her awake. "Claire, Claire, honey, come on. Wake up. It's just a bad dream." It took him a good minute, but he eventually managed to wake her, earning a punch in the arm for his efforts.

She looked at him with her green Bambi eyes, cheeks red and flustered, confused and lost, not entirely awake from the nightmare, but not trapped in it either. "Owen?" she asked, voice so small and dreadful like a child's. It broke Owen's heart to see her like this.

As he cradled her in his arms, back pressed against the wall of the van, she sobbed. Quietly at first, as if she was afraid the entire world might hear her and laugh at her, then more and more loudly until sobs racked her entire body so hard, Owen had to tighten his hold on her. He was starting to get concerned, wondering if she wasn't having some kind of seizure, when the sobs gradually lowered in intensity and frequency, until she was slack against his chest, her face wet from the tears but the rest of her body burning with the horrors of her nightmare.

They stayed like that for so long, Maisie poked her head in the open door of the van. Owen lifted his thumb up, telling her it was okay while stroking Claire's head with his other hand, her body laying awkwardly on his like a rag doll. Maisie smiled sadly before heading out, leaving the door open. Claire didn't seem to notice the girl at all.

It wasn't the first time one of them suffered from a nightmare or had a PTSD episode. Right on their first day, a few hours after they had filled the tank with gas, Owen broke down so hard he had to stop the car to pull himself together, worrying Maisie and waking up Claire. Two days later, Maisie woke up screaming and refused to go to sleep for two days straight. She only found solace in Claire's arms, the redhead rocking her back and forth under the incomplete roof of their new cabin and future home (because Claire had agreed they lived there that first summer, but would go back to her apartment in the city in the winter and Maisie was on board whatever they decided).

They had what Claire called contingency plans, a special one for each of them in every single situation. They had one for when Owen would suddenly freeze behind the wheel, his eyes seeing horrible things flash across his eyes. They had one for whenever Maisie woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare or when she refused to sleep in complete darkness. They had one for when Claire saw or felt something sharp nudging her and would be reminded of the way she got her injury. They had one for when Owen would stay under hot water too long and would start hyperventilating, feeling as if he was surrounded by lava (it also happened when he worked for too long in the sun, so Claire always made sure to watch him and keep a fresh bottle of water nearby). They had one for when Claire started to freak out whenever they came across a body of water (like that time two days prior when they had gone swimming in the lake nearby and Claire's head went under for a split second when she lost her footing). They had one for when Maisie would hear a wild animal in the forest and would start screaming.

And when a new situation came up, they figured out a new plan as well. Somehow, all three of them working together seemed to be enough. Sometimes it was Owen that helped Claire through a tough spot, sometimes it was Maisie.

"She ate you…" Claire whispered so softly that Owen wondered if he heard her right. She was calm now, her breathing normal again and her skin didn't seem as clammy as before, nor her core didn't seem as if she was burning from the inside out. But something in her voice wasn't right. "Cut you clean in half… I can still see the bones sticking out… the blood… and your insides…" she didn't continue and just kept looking at empty space. It worried Owen that Claire's words were so graphic, because she was never so specific in her retailing of her nightmares.

Her hold, which was strong, almost desperate, when she had woken up as if she was afraid he might vanish, was slack now, like she wasn't even trying. As if she was empty in that shell of a body, barely a ghost of her former self.

Owen looked down at her, chin pressed against his chest. She didn't move, didn't even try to lay straighter. She remained motionless, vain, empty, her eyes lacking their usual spark, her lips slightly agape. "Claire, look at me."

He shook her shoulders, but her head only lolled from one side to the other. So he shifted her body making her sit between his legs (clad in her most hated board shorts) and gently took her face in his hands, searching her eyes. "Claire, honey, please, please look at me," he pleaded.

He saw her react to the sound of his voice, her pupils dilating and tightening in rhythm, her irises shifting to slowly focus on his own gaze, lush green meeting sea blue. She was still there, somewhere, he just had to find her. "Hey, I'm here. That's it, keep focusing on me." He felt her frown more than he saw the lines of her forehead, as if she was trying to make sense of something obvious, something she was supposed to know but somehow evaded her. Her pupils dilated once more and he felt a small smile form on her lips as she recognized him, really recognized him this time.

"Owen," she said and the relief in her voice could make his heart melt.

"It's okay, you're home." He didn't let go of her face, didn't lower his gaze and focused solely on her, on her needs, on her presence. He wanted to never let go, to always hold her, have her so close to him, so intimately linked beyond measure, two souls connected simply by their eyes.

Her smile grew a little wider, her lips parting ever so slightly and it was all the invitation Owen needed to lean forward and kiss her. She tasted like lemonade and painkillers, like summer and home. The softness of her lips was like a sweet balm applied on his very heart. Closing his eyes, he moaned in her mouth when her hands slid along his chest, innocently resting there, with her nails gently brushing against the fabric of his shirt. He brought one of his own hands behind her head, sliding calloused fingers into the knot at the base of her neck, still wet from her nightmare and he tugged a little, making her moan in response.

They kissed until they both lacked air, until their mind were spiraling in lust, until they reached the edge that, if crossed, would end up with the both of them naked somewhere in this van. Foreheads pressed together, they remained seated like that a few moments more, enjoying the other's presence and their scent, somehow so familiar after three years of dancing around each other and yet so new now that they finally knew how to make it work.

"How long have you been awake?" Claire asked before she nuzzled his shirt and restrained herself from kissing his collarbone, despite how tempting it was.

"A few hours. I wanted to start on the cabin before the sun became unbearable. I finished the roof of the porch. Maisie then helped me with the bolts, my crate is a mess."

"So she's been up as well?"

He nodded. Ever since they started living like this, Maisie was usually the first one up. "She's fine, don't worry."

It was Claire's turn to nod. "You want to eat something? There are some fruit left from yesterday. We're still good with groceries for a couple of days." So far, Claire had paid for most of their things, seeing as she had earned more than Owen in her years at Jurassic World, strikingly more, which in fact, allowed her to keep her apartment and live here in the middle of nowhere, with Owen and Maisie.

"How about we get you cleaned up first?" Owen sensed Claire tense under his hands. Cleaning up meant shower and shower meant water. The van had a decent shower all things considered, but the water levels were something Claire also kept in check, just like the gasoline and oil levels, or their stock of food, wood, clothes, money, and all the essentials one needed to live in a cabin in the woods that wasn't even finished yet. Owen let her take care of the management of their little family, firstly because he saw how good it was for her to have something to do (and dealing with DPG was out of the question for now) and secondly because she did one hell of an amazing job with it. Claire had, after all, managed twenty thousand people a day for years, a family of three was nothing in comparison.

So after a few seconds more, she nodded and stood up, her eyes pleading him to come with her.


	3. Chapter 3

The shower was the size of a small closet. Claire could stand up in it without a problem but she knew Owen's head was mere inches away from the ceiling. It was isolated from the rest of the van, perfectly safe to use and no water or humidity could come out once the door was properly sealed. The water could escape down in the drain (and Owen would later empty the tank of dirty water in the bushes nearby) and all the humidity that gathered was filtered through a small gridded hole at the top of the wall (it was so efficient, that in the winter Owen often had to plug the hole with something to prevent the cold from entering, which also explained why he wasn't a fan of living in his van when it was really cold).

Claire gingerly stepped in it after taking off her socks. She only used her crutches outside if she was really tired and she was proud to say that she required them less and less. A small blush crept up her cheeks when she looked at Owen. "I'll be alright. But, please stay nearby?"

It was Owen's turn to blush. He hadn't insinuated anything when he suggested Claire cleaned up, he had just seen the way her clothes stuck to her skin because of the sweat and thought a good shower would help her feel better. That's what he always did after an episode; the water helped him clear his mind.

"Sure. Call me if you need anything." She smiled in return and closed the door.

A minute later, she handed him her clothes and he prepared her towel. The shower was so small there was no place to hang any towel inside, or even the products they used, which he handed to her with his eyes closed. Owen only relaxed when he heard the water running and bottles being opened and closed.

It took all of Claire's willpower not to run away from the shower. She didn't mind the water itself, she could drink it or splash a bit of it on her face on a hot day when she helped Owen build the cabin. But she hated that shower. The space was too small; she could touch each wall when she opened her arms. The sealing noise of the door reminded her too much of the Gyrosphere. She felt vulnerable inside this shower, trapped and left to die.

She knew Owen was right outside the door. She could actually hear him hum some song they heard on the radio during their last groceries run. After her first episode with the shower, he had started to do that to let her know at all times that he was right there, only a door away. It helped her relax and most days, it allowed her to go through the shower, to push the trauma to the side.

But not today.

The nightmare was still too vivid in her mind; she could still see sharp teeth and sticking bones whenever she closed her eyes. So she kept them open for as long as she could, leaned closer to the water and started to lather her arms. Being the organized person she was, she had a pattern to wash herself. She always started with her hands, then her arms, spending a lot of time on them since it had been the part that got the dirtiest. Then she cleaned her shoulders and neck, but never above. Then it was chest, stomach and back, before she did her knees and feet, always leaving her thighs last.

She always took extra time to clean her wound properly. The stitches were well done and she hadn't popped them so far, despite how much she sometimes exhausted herself when she helped Owen lift wooden beams and nail them into place. She undid the bandages and left them on the side of the shower, planning on getting rid of them later. She cleaned her wound, although difficult at first and she had required Owen's help the first few days (they had actually cleaned her wound outside, seeing as they could hardly both fit in the shower). Now, she could do it on her own, although it still hurt.

Leaning against the right wall of the shower and lifting her right leg slightly, she let the water clean the wound, only using her fingers to smooth the edges of the stitches, wincing whenever she hit a sensitive spot. Owen kept humming outside the door, grounding her.

That is until she put her leg back down and made the mistake of leaning a bit too much and water splashed on her head.

She was immediately brought back inside the Gyrosphere, water filling the glass ball so fast she could see it rising. She tried to get away, to find a way out, but all she could see was water. In her panic, she brutally spun back and hit the back wall of the shower so hard, the noise startled Owen who called out to her, asking her if she was okay.

She didn't hear his plea, didn't notice that there was no more water on her head, that it had only wet the front strands of hair on her head, sticking them to her forehead. She didn't feel the pain in her back as her naked body hit the wall again. She just had to get away, she needed to escape.

With both hands, she clawed at the walls on either side, her breaths coming faster every second. Her whole body was shivering and yet the water running from the shower head was warm, even too warm according to Owen. There was buzzing in her ears and she felt light headed, her eyesight starting to dance as she lacked oxygen. She felt like she was drowning and her lungs burned under the pressure. She wanted to scream, but nothing came out of her mouth as if her tongue had been cut out.

The next second, the door was opened and Owen threw something soft on her. In the same movement, he turned the shower off and pulled her in his embrace. He carried her out of the shower, almost like a sack of potatoes and into the main room of the van, sitting with her on the floor where the sunlight was pouring through the open door. He could see Maisie picking flowers in the distance, right next to the pile of wooden beams.

Owen replaced the towel a bit better on Claire's body and held her close while stroking smoothing circles on her back and whispering softly in her ear. It took her nearly five minutes to calm down, to stop hyperventilating and to synchronize her heartbeat with Owen's. She was about to apologize but Owen spoke first. "It's okay. We got this. It'll get better." She nodded and rested her head on his chest while holding the towel tighter around her naked body.

"Did you manage to wash your wound?" Owen then asked, eyeing the injury.

"Yes. The only thing I didn't wash was my hair. And I was hoping I would manage to do so, seeing as it's been dirty for far too long."

"Tell you what," he said, standing up and pulling her up with him, mindful of her injured leg on which he noticed she didn't stand. "You go and dress, then we'll put another bandage on that wound and I'll wash your hair outside. Like, we can figure something out with a bucket and a chair. This way you don't have to put your whole head under the spray, you won't get submerged."

 _Submerged_. She hated that word.

While Owen disappeared outside, Claire proceeded to dry herself and rinse the remaining spots of soap from her body. She was clad in one of her tank tops and a pair of shorts when Owen came back and applied a fresh roll of bandages around her thigh. When they walk together out of the van, Claire noticed that Owen had already set up a chair in front of a low table where he had filled a bucket with clear water. He had her shampoo and conditioner ready and a new towel. When she sat on the chair, he put a flat cushion around her neck and gently pushed her head back so her neck was resting on the edge of the bucket. "See? Just like at the hairdresser."

Claire couldn't help but smile.

There were moments when she almost bolted out of the chair, when the water was too close to her face and when her breathing quickened. But she closed her eyes, held Maisie's hand and breathed through the panic, Owen's fingers tracing gentle circles on her scalp. It took them a while to wash her hair and Claire listened to every story Maisie told her to keep her mind busy, but they eventually managed to wash Claire's hair properly.

The victory was small and Claire hated not being able to do some of the simplest things, but it was a victory nonetheless and tomorrow would be a better day.


	4. Chapter 4

The cabin was coming nicely in the next days. Owen was glad to notice that their episodes were less and less intense, although they remained as frequent. They still avoided company whenever they could, had talked to their families but refused to see them yet. Claire had been talking with Karen about them meeting Maisie, but she didn't want to overwhelm the girl. All three of them were learning how to function as a family and Claire didn't want to disrupt what they were working on so hard. She also wanted to find Iris, but no luck so far.

It was late in the afternoon but the sun was shining as brightly as before. The night would be clear, Owen realized as he looked at the sky that was the deepest blue. Maisie was taking a nap in the van after the exhaustion of a sleepless night and Claire was besides him. They lifted a wooden beam on their shoulders. It wasn't one of the central pillars; all of those were already in place. The front porch was done, and it was time to add the beams for the upper level. Owen had planned to add a second floor to his cabin and now that Claire and Maisie were part of his life, it only made sense to make it a bit bigger.

Although they had agreed they would stay in Claire's apartment in the winter (because the cabin would definitely not be finished by then, at least not this year), they hadn't talked about the long term yet. He knew Claire didn't mind living in the middle of nowhere as long as it was with him and Maisie, but he also knew she was a woman of action, that she needed a higher calling. He would be disappointed otherwise; her high achiever personality was what drove him to her in the first place in Jurassic World.

They made it to the cabin before Owen suddenly stumbled. He managed to catch himself before the beam tipped over and Claire's concerned gaze was on his back in an instant. She was holding the rear of the beam, and it might not be as heavy as the central beams, but it was still too much for her alone to bear. "Owen," she started before she had to grit her teeth, changing her footing to stand more steadily.

"I'm okay," he said and kept walking, but he stumbled again. Claire wondered if it was because of his injured shoulder. It had healed nicely and Owen's bruises had all disappeared by now, but she wouldn't be surprised if some of the pain sneaked up on him long after it had all healed.

The next step he took almost made her lose her balance because of their height difference and the fact that Owen's grip was weakening. She could see the sweat pouring on his neck and the back of his head, as if suddenly a hundred more pounds had been placed on his shoulders. "Owen, stop. Let's… let's stop. Please."

But he didn't seem to be able to hear her and took another step. Claire didn't know what to do. If she let go of the beam, it might hurt his back or worse. But if she held on, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold the weight on her own if Owen let go or fell. Both of them could get seriously injured.

Luckily, Owen stopped walking at that moment and dropped to his knees slowly while Claire watched him and lowered her end in sync. She could faintly hear him whisper something like "I'm sorry." It's only when he was down on his knees that she gently let go of her end of the beam and forced his own hands to let go as well.

"It's okay Owen, you're fine, it's okay." He couldn't seem to focus on her and his pupils were dilated, his mouth parted and lips trembling.

He continued to whisper that he was sorry until he let go of the beam and Claire brought it down the rest of the way, pushing it so Owen wouldn't injured himself. He fell on his bottom and simply sat there, repeating "I'm so sorry," over and over again like a mantra.

One look towards the van told Claire that Maisie was still inside, most likely asleep. She ran towards the bottle of water she kept fresh in a cooler plugged to the van's electric system. She also grabbed two small kitchen towels and came back to Owen. Kneeling in front of him, she poured some of the water on a cloth, using the other to wipe the sweat. "Owen, Owen look at me, honey, please." But he kept repeating he was sorry and his eyes were lost in empty space, the usual sea blue somehow veiled.

She poured more water on her hands and grabbed his cheeks. "Come on, baby, come back to me." She shuddered when she poured water on his head while avoiding his face, very aware of her own triggers. She didn't care that she was wetting his clothes; she needed to bring him back. His heart rate was faster and faster and he seemed to have trouble breathing. So she did the thing that had worked the last time something like this happened to him: she kissed him.

It wasn't just a peck on the lips, it was a full blown kiss meant to cover his entire mouth and she pushed whatever air she had in her lungs into his own body, forcing him to breathe through her. She did that a few times, alternating the kissing with pouring water over his collarbone, his shoulders, down his bare arms and on the back of his neck. When she saw the spark in his eyes return, she stopped the kissing and focused more on the water. She tried to move him to a shaded place, but she couldn't lift his weighed when he refused to move. And she didn't want to hurt him.

"Claire?" he asked at some point, one of his hands grasping the empty air in front of him until she took his hand and interlaced their fingers.

"I'm here, honey. I'm here."

"I'm so sorry," he cried and it broke Claire's heart to see him so miserable, this man that was almost invincible in her eyes that was now taken down by a hallucination, a daydream or a nightmare, she couldn't really tell but it wasn't important.

"For what?" she asked and left one of her hands on his neck, tracing soothing circles at its base and ever so slightly racking her fingernails through his hair. She sat straighter so she could be as close to him as she could without actually straddling him. She used her other hand to trace small circles with the pad of her thumb on his calloused hand.

"She… she got you… in the exhibit… and I couldn't… I couldn't… every time I close my eyes… you're…"

She shushed him and he looked at her, finally looking at her with tear stricken eyes. "I'm alright Owen." She brought his hand to her chest and placed it right above her heart. His gaze followed her movement and watched his hand rise and fall in rhythm. "I'm alive. Hear me breathe, hear my heart. It's beating." She smiled. "You saved me so many times Owen. You have nothing to apologize for."

He kept watching her chest rise and fall and slowly synched his heartbeat on hers, calming down. Claire gently whipped his tears away and pressed the wet and fresh cloth against the side of his face, gently and tenderly. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered in his ear as she hugged him, finally straddling him.

The way he held her so tightly made her want to never let go. "We'll get through this, you'll see," she said.

"I know," he answered in her hair. It felt so good to have her in his arms again, Owen couldn't describe it. He had dreamt of her so many times after their breakup, had imagined how things might have gone differently. The way they were brought back together was cruel and he would glare at the universe's twisted sense of humor, but they were together and that was all that mattered for now.


	5. Chapter 5

For once, Maisie woke up rested and without a nightmare. She sat in the bed, squeezed between Owen's side and Claire's arms. Both adults were still sleeping and Maisie smiled and watched them for a while. They seemed so peaceful like that. They reminded her of Iris and her grandfather, always trying to remain calm and responsible.

Maisie had of course seen them angry, just like the time Claire had yelled at Owen for hitting every single bump in the road, or that time Owen lost it at Claire when she almost worked herself to exhaustion. But this wasn't the kind of angry that scared her, it was the kind of angry that didn't stay angry for long, the kind of angry that was the only way to make the other person realize that whatever they were doing was wrong, the kind of angry that showed how much they cared.

Maisie knew that adults sometimes had to get angry, because not everyone did good things and not everyone thought like them. Sometimes, people didn't understand other people. Sometimes, they didn't understand themselves. And Maisie knew that adults had to be the responsible ones, they had to think about everything, and they had a lot of pressure on their shoulders all the time.

Just like Owen had explained to her that driving a car was no joke and that it required a lot of patience and coordination. Just like Claire was organizing their grocery shopping lists and making sure they didn't forget anything. Owen had told Maisie that, even if he made fun of Claire's obsession with organization, he was glad she was the most organized of them all, because someone had to do it and she was really good at it. Just like Claire had told Maisie that she admired Owen for his self control and how unfazed he sometimes was when she was scared out of her mind.

She liked Owen's smile and Claire's laugh. It made her feel safe, it made her believe that nothing could go wrong. Owen smelled like gasoline whenever he worked on the car, but mostly he smelled like wood and fresh pasta (he was the best cook out of the three of them, although Maisie had been taught by Iris how to make a few simple things). Claire smelled like vanilla and mint, and sometimes she even smelled like freshly made coffee.

Owen was strong and protective, always on high alert but somehow making it look like he was perfectly calm and confident. Whenever Maisie was alone with him, he always taught her something interesting, something practical without even trying. Maisie had picked up a lot of things just by watching him, like how to hold a hammer and not hurt your fingers when you nailed a plank, how to gut a fish (Claire frowned at that one), how to check the level of clean water in the van, how to lace her shoelaces in a simpler way than what Iris taught her, how to tell if the next day would be windy just looking at the evening sky.

But with Claire, things were the same and different all together. When Claire taught her things, it was always with the purpose of teaching, like math, or how to pronounce certain words, how to count or how to read a map. She taught her about History and other subjects that children learned at school. But there was an entire array of things that Maisie had learned also just by looking at Claire. Like how standing straighter made her seem more confident and authoritative. How to walk with conviction, how to talk a certain way to certain people. She had seen the way Claire handled situations like a queen and how protective she could also be, especially with her. They were both strong and protective in their own way, which was why Maisie thought they worked so well together.

It was nice to see them relaxed like this, not trying to fix the world. Owen's arm was gently nestled on Claire's hip, while Claire's hand was gently brushing Owen's head. She may have known them only for a few weeks, she didn't want to leave them. They had briefly mentioned adoption and finding Iris to make it all official. Maisie wanted to see the old lady again, she missed her. She knew she could trust Owen and Claire, had seen how protective they could get of her and knew they would love her and treat her right. Just like her grandpa and Iris had. And they knew what she really was and had accepted her regardless.

Deciding to let them sleep for another hour or two, she gently got out of bed, making sure she didn't disturb them and that they remained in that position, reaching out for each other. She put on her shoes, grabbed a box of cereal from the table and walked out of the van.

The cabin was coming nicely and most of the wood beams holding the whole structure together were already in place. Maisie made her way to the architectural table, letting the morning sun erase all trace of sleep from her face as she breathed in the fresh air. It was a nice change from the mansion. She looked at the smaller cabin Owen had designed, all finished and perfect, like the house of a doll, while munching on cereals. She let her fingers wonder around the house, pretending she was a little person visiting. But as soon as she climbed onto the roof, she took a step back, remembering what had happened on the glass roof of the expositions' gallery.

A noise behind her startled her and she looked at the forest. Soon enough, there was some rustling in the bushes nearby until a grey squirrel came out. It stood on its back legs and sniffed the air, looking around as if it was lost. Maisie tried to approach it quietly, moving slowly one foot after the other just like she had seen Owen do with Blue. The squirrel skittered back into the bushes and on a tree when she got too close and Maisie sighed in disappointment.

She was about to sit on the porch of the unfinished house, when three other things came out of the bushes and stopped right in front of her. They seemed excited and one of them was jumping around and tilting its head from side to side. A sign of curiosity, Maisie remembered Owen say in one of his videos. She couldn't quite see them because of the sun that was blinding her, so she moved a few feet to the side. They moved with her and Maisie realized they were miniature dinosaurs.

As soon as the realization hit her, she fell back and dropped the cereal box. The Compys squealed and jumped on it, latching at the cereal so fast, Maisie turned and ran. One of the Compys barely touched her shin but it was enough to scare her and she lost her footing. As she scrambled back towards the van, she couldn't help but scream.

It took Owen and Claire approximately seven seconds to wake up, realize Maisie was gone, bolt for the door of the van and notice what was going on. Owen was the first one out and placed himself between Maisie and the Compy that was about to jump on her, effectively catching it by the tail and throwing it as far as he could. It only landed gracefully on the ground and came back, squealing even more.

Claire grabbed a piece of wood lying around and yelled at Owen and Maisie "Cover your ears!" before she slammed the piece of wood against the side of the van. A loud metal-like noise resonated and even Owen grimaced despite his ears being covered. The Compys looked at Claire startled and she ran towards them, yelling like a madwoman and waving the piece of wood in the air before trying to club one of them. Owen was sure she'd have hit it if the Compys didn't run for the woods back where they came from.

"That should keep them away," Claire said as she looked at the forest to make sure they weren't coming back or something bigger wasn't paying them a visit. The next moment, Maisie was throwing her arms around her waist, just like Grey had done all those years ago.

Since that day, Claire received the nickname of "Compy clubber", much to her dismay and Owen made sure to always keep some kind of staff or bat in the car, just in case Claire wanted to give it another go. And when the summer ended, they said goodbye to the cabin and headed back to the city where Claire's apartment was, with the idea in mind that they would find Iris and meet with Karen in the next weeks.

And for a while, despite the nightmares, triggers and fears, they were okay.


End file.
